


Infinite Miracles II

by Galen_Wordwyrm



Series: Infinite Miracles AU [2]
Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Awkward Conversations, Confessions, Conversations, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, F/F, Good Chloé Bourgeois, Lesbian Chloé Bourgeois, Lila Rossi Bashing, Lila Rossi Lies, Multi, Other, Post-Canon, Weirdness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-14
Updated: 2020-11-01
Packaged: 2021-03-05 04:40:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 14,038
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25268506
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Galen_Wordwyrm/pseuds/Galen_Wordwyrm
Summary: After missing for more than a year and a half, Chloé Bourgious is back in town, and bringing even more complications into the lives of her friends, family, and the holders of the Miraculous.
Relationships: Chloé Bourgeois & Original Female Character(s), Chloé Bourgeois/Sabrina Raincomprix
Series: Infinite Miracles AU [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1852690
Comments: 26
Kudos: 51





	1. Floating, Weightless, Coming Home

**Author's Note:**

> If your'e just joining us, and the Infinite Miracles AU, go read the first round. We'll wait while you catch up.
> 
> Done? Good.
> 
> For Sannixx
> 
> PS: as before, if a chapter has graphic description of violence or sexual situations, warning will be posted in the note at the beginning of each chapter as appropriate. You have been warned, ok?

Marinette DuPain-Chang, known and beloved by Paris as the superheroine Ladybug, ran along the rooftops to gain momentum, throwing her yo-yo to anchor the pendulum swing she leapt into with practiced grace, landing on the small private rooftop patio that led via skylight entrance into her very mundane bedroom.

Just in time. Her miraculous let out their final audible signal before the magic faded and she was once again just Marinette, average teenage girl.

An average teenage girl with one huge, potentially life-threatening problem. In the form of the previously missing hotel heiress Chloé Bourgeois, daughter of the Mayor of Paris, former classmate and rival.

Marinette let out a weary sigh, shoulders slumping. “Why me?”, she asked the universe.

Tikki, the immortal spirit that inhabited and powered the miraculous that enabled Marinette’s transformation and abilities, appeared and flew a tight orbit of her mistress and friend. “You’re going to have to confront this situation with Chloé head on, Marinette. There’s no way around it.”

“I know”, Marinette grumbled. “Once, just once, I’d like to have Miss Chloé Bourgeois not be a massive pain in my behind!”

Marinette let out a long-suffering sigh. “Might as well get this over with…”, she muttered and trotted downstairs through the trapdoor of her loft to the bakery storefront.

Chloé sat behind the counter, chatting quietly, intimately with…Chloé.

Two of them. Two Chloé Bourgeois.

Marinette stopped on the stairs, frozen, baffled.

“What. The. Actual. FUCK??!”, Marinette demanded. At volume.

“Pay up!”, Punk Chloé laughed. “I told you Marinette would lose her mind when she saw us!”

The duplicate Chloé in her trademark lemon yellow cardigan and white capris trilled scandalized laughter. “Don’t be mean, baby. She’s had a tough day.”

“No! Nope, nope! No way! I’m out!”, Marinette exploded in denial, hands warding off the sight, turning to scurry back up the stairs to her refuge. “One Chloé? Fine! Two?! HELL NO!!”

“Oh shit! She’s rabbiting! Grab her!”, Punk Chloé exclaimed, launching from her stool in pursuit, thundering up the steps, close on Marinette's heels, duplicate Chloé right behind. A brief frantic chase, dodging and leaping over furniture in the DuPain-Chang living/dining room ended when Marinette jinked the wrong way trying to evade the duplicate Chloé as she blocked the stairs up to Marinette's room, and Punk Chloé tackled her like a seasoned rugby flanker, driving Marinette into the couch, pinning her down.

“I knew it! I knew you’d betray me agai—!" Chloé clapped her hand over Marinette's mouth.

“Shut up and listen!”, Chloé hissed. “Just once, listen to me!”

Sapphire blue eyes glared defiance at Chloé.

“I’m Chloé Bourgeois, the girl who made your life a misery. That,” she pointed, “Is Alicia, my…girlfriend is the wrong word, but it’s all I have. Yes, I know she looks exactly like me! She should. Because she used to be my reflection.”

Alicia approached the rivals cautiously. “Baby, she looks pissed.”

A sigh. “Yeah, I don’t blame her.”

Marinette shoved Chloé’s hand aside. “Get off me.”

Chloé stood up.

“Did Papillion put you up to this?”, Marinette demanded.

Chloé glared at Marinette. “That aubergine fashion disaster can go fuck himself for all I care.”

“Marinette", Alicia intervened, “Can we sit down and discuss this calmly? Chloé will tell you everything.”

“Fine.” Angry, but accepting the situation.

Marinette and Alicia sat at the dining table, watching while Chloé rummaged through the kitchen cupboards, letting out a small cry of triumph, and joined them at the table carrying a bottle and three shot glasses.

“That’s my dad's brandy!”, Marinette objected.

“Good. You’re going to need it", Chloé nodded, pouring three shots.

Chloé sat, placing the frosted green bottle on the table, and tipped back her drink, then placing the cool glass against her forehead.

“You’re underage!”, Marinette exclaimed, shocked.

“Like I give a damn at this point, Bugaboo”, Chloé scoffed, bitter. “Besides, I wouldn’t be so sure on that, because I have no idea how old I really am, thanks to mommy dearest. Drink up.”

“À votre santé", Alicia replied, draining her shot, wincing.

Marinette took a cautious sip, gasping slightly as the liquor burned a trail down her throat.

“Where to fucking begin…”, mused Chloé. “How about right after you took away my miraculous?”

*-*-*

Three hours later, more than a few tears from Chloé and Alicia, Marinette sat at the table, stunned.

“You’re awful quiet, Marinette”, Chloé cautiously observed.

Marinette blew out a measured breath, thinking.

“That’s…a lot to take in, Chloé. There’s no way to verify it, but it fits a lot of the facts of your disappearance. And now it’s both of you who know about my identity. This is bad. Really, really bad.”

“I’ll go lock up", Alicia offered. “Give you two a moment alone.”

Marinette waited until Alicia was out of sight. “I need proof Alicia is who, what, she… you… say she is.”

Chloé smiled, resigned. “I figured you’d want proof. Can we go to your room? I…feel kinda weird having to do this in your living room.”

“Like it won’t be even weirder doing it in my room?!”

“Humor me, Marinette. Please.”

Marinette relented. “Fiiiine", she groaned, as Alicia rejoined them.

Stomping resignedly up to her loft, Marinette ushered her nemesis into her inner sanctum, awaiting the acid condemnation of her decorating choices that never came.

“This is really cute, Marinette", Chloé nodded. “The stalker shrine to Adrian is a little creepy, but it’s less garish than mine.”

Alicia was drawn to the fashion sketches Marinette had designed, pinned up above her work station. “You did these?” Open admiration in her voice.

“Uhh, yeah. Over the past couple of years. Those are the ones I actually sold”, Marinette admitted, blushing.

Chloé shucked out of her black leather jacket, and bent to untie her hi-tops, kicking them off. Then she and Alicia stood side by side. “Let’s do this.”

Both of the blondes undid and unexpectedly skinned down their tight trousers to just below their knees, exposing the toned, smooth golden skin of their shapely legs. And the mirrored tracks of parallel scars, fine and pale. Chloé’s right thigh, Alicia’s left.

Recovering from her awkward flinch of the sudden disrobing, Marinette squatted on her heels close to Chloé, inspecting the evidence of long ago self-harm. Fingertips a feathery tracing on sensitive skin.

Chloé bucked, laughing. “Goddamit, that tickles, Marinette!”

Marinette chuckled. “Bootie shorts? I always figured you for the g-string brigade, Chloé.”

“Butt floss?! In these pants? Give me credit, Marinette", Chloé giggled.

Standing, Marinette considered what she’d just seen as both girls pulled their clothing back into place. Two paces had her sitting in her red office chair as Chloé and Alicia sat on her chaise lounge, holding hands. Marinette rolled herself closer so she wouldn’t be shouting across the room.

“I guess this explains your sudden ‘vacation' in the middle of term a few years back. And why you begged out of changing in front of everybody for athletics and swimming afterwards. I’m as guilty as everyone else who assumed you were just being even more of a princess than usual. I apologise.”

Chloé looked out the circular window into the gathering Parisian night. “It’s…not something I’m proud of. But it’s part of me, us, and I’m…I want to be a better person, okay? It is what it is, and I can’t change the past.”

“I’m gonna admit that…little display was kinda shocking”, Marinette sighed. “And pretty convincing. But other people are gonna want more, hmm, tangible proof of what your claiming.”

Alicia spoke up. “Chloé told me that everyone’s fingerprints are completely unique, and even identical twins have very slight, but still discernable differences in their fingerprints. I have an idea. Do you have some paper?”

Marinette nodded, retrieving a blank scratch-pad, and two markers, one red, one blue, watching as Chloé and Alicia each coloured the pad of the index finger from opposite hands and made side-by-side imprints. Casual inspection revealed the fingerprints looked eerily similar. A closer look with a loupe, making a careful comparison left Marinette slightly shaken.

“Completely identical", she whispered, awed.

“But perfectly mirrored, right?”, Chloé inquired.

Marinette nodded.

“Now do you believe us?”

“I don’t have a choice, do I?”

The three young women sat silent for a moment, one of them pondering the ramifications. Chloé spoke up first.

“Alicia doesn’t exist. Not…officially. No identification, no birth certificate. I’m…gonna have to break some pretty important laws to give Alicia a life.”

Marinette almost screamed in frustration. “Chloé!! Why are you telling me this?! Now I’m an accomplice!”

“Because I have to trust someone!”, Chloé snapped. “Why not the girl who’s hiding her own secret?”

“This is blackmail!”

Chloé shook her head. “No. It’s mutually assured destruction. Neither of us can betray the other without taking themselves down.”

Marinette hung her head. “I give up. Fine.”

“I’m glad your being sensible.” Chloé wasn’t gloating. “Now we can tackle the big problem.”

“What?!”

“Alicia can’t read. Not really. And I'm not going to leave her at home during the day.”

“You want to bring her to school?!”

Chloé and Alicia stared silently at Marinette like she’d grown a third head.

“You’re trying to kill me. That’s it", Marinette complained. “Death by exploding head…”

Silence.

“Fine. I’ll tutor Alicia on the side.”

Chloé smiled. “You won’t be alone. I’ll be working with her at home.”

Marinette fixed a gimlet eye on Chloé. “Speaking of… Have you actually gone home yet? You know, told your parents you’re counted amongst the living again?”

“Talking to you was more important. You were our first stop after getting off the bus from Nantes what, ten hours ago.”

“What?!”

“Really, Marinette, you have to stop screaming like that”, Alicia said calmly. “You’re going to alarm the neighbors.”

Marinette leaned over, snatching the pillow off the chaise lounge, screaming into it.

Glaring at Chloé and her twin?, Marinette huffed in annoyance. “You two are seriously testing my personal resolve about not committing personal violence.”

Chloé sobered. “Alicia is practically a blank canvas, Marinette. Her entire existence up until very recently has been duplicating my every move. She literally knows nothing about the world, and I am a very bad example.

I…I want her to have the best chance. And you? Well, you’re a good influence. A good person.

I’m…not.”

Alicia laced her fingers into Chloé’s. “You are a good person, Chlo. Just more than a bit fucked up”, she said gently.

Chloé scoffed quietly. “I…I’m not perfect, babe. And Marinette will tell you the truth about how badly I behaved in the past. I-I made some dreadful mistakes. You’re my second chance.”

Marinette blew a lock of blue-black hair out of her eyes. “This is still so weird, hearing you talk to yourself, Chloé.”

Chloé chuckled. “That’s just it, Marinette. I’m not. Alicia is her own person. And I love her more than I can explain.” 

“Umm, Marinette? “

“Yeah, Chlo-, sorry, Alicia?”

“I know we only met a few hours ago, and I know what I’m about to ask is huge favor, given the past between you and Chloé--"

Marinette sighed, bowing to the inevitable, raising a hand to forestall Alicia. “Yes, you two can crash here overnight.”

“You’re the best!”, grinning, Alicia wrapped Marinette in a joyous embrace.

“Alya is going to kill me”, Marinette muttered.


	2. I Am The Maker Of Rules, Dealing With Fools

Early Sunday morning, Marinette padded downstairs in her nightshirt and fuzzy slippers to find the two Chloés, no, correction, Chloé and Alicia snuggled chastely together under the sheets of the couch hide-a-bed, a shapeless canvas backpack on the floor nearby. She debated waking the two girls and summarily evicting them into the world to face the consequences, shrugged, and decided she'd deal with it after breakfast.

Marinette was buttering toast made from bread she'd baked two days previous when Chloé (the original) blearily helped herself to the coffee Marinette had just finished brewing. “Hey!”, came the objection.

“Marinette", Chloé, dressed in her ‘Bollocks!’ raven t-shirt and bootie shorts, smiled slightly dangerously, “This is the first real, proper coffee I’ve had in a year and a half. I will fight you for it.”

“Don’t do it, Marinette”, Alicia warned from the hide-a-bed. “Yesterday in Nantes she punched out a tourist over a bus-station croissant.”

“He pinched my ass!”, Chloé protested.

Stretching enticingly, Alicia arose from the hide-a-bed, yawning prettily, clad in an over-large singlet and cotton panties, and padded over to pluck the coffee cup out of Chloé’s hands and steal a sip.

“Gah! Stuff still tastes dreadful!”, Alicia grimaced. “I don’t know why you drink this nasty goop.”

“Would you prefer some tea instead?”, Marinette offered, grinning.

“Umm…I guess? Maybe?”, Alicia shrugged. “I’ve never had tea. I have tried apple juice. I like that.”

Chloé reclaimed her coffee from Alicia. “When I said Alicia has no real experience with the world, I meant it. Her first ever meal was pizza with ham and pineapple on it. Have you ever heard of such an utterly ridiculous thing?”

Marinette shrugged. “Can’t say as I have. Must be something foreign.”

“It was amazing!”, Alicia grinned.

“How do you two feel about omelettes?”, Marinette inquired.

“What's an omelette?”

Chloé sighed and sat at the dining table. “I haven’t had near enough coffee to deal with this yet…”

*-*-*

Breakfast over, dishes washed, dried, and put away, the three young women took turns showering and preparing for the day. 

Chloé was tying the laces of her black hi-tops, swapping out the raven t-shirt for a black one with a blue pony’s head in profile with a rainbow mane and the legend ‘20% Cooler' in white faded English when Marinette asked the question.

“Why ‘Alicia'?”

Chloé smiled softly, shrugging. “Because she came through the looking glass to be with me.”

“You. Literate.” Disbelieving.

Chloé pushed off from the couch. “I’m not an idiot, Marinette.”

“You underestimated her", Alicia quipped as she passed behind Marinette. “Excuse me.”

Dressed, Chloé was tying her blonde hair in it's high ponytail when Marinette really noticed the tattoo of a chess queen in red on the inside of her right wrist. And a simple black semicolon on her left. Chloé saw Marinette staring.

“Yes, tattoos. The queen reminds me of my failures. The semicolon means my story is paused, not over.” Brusque, to the point.

Marinette took a moment to mull this information over. “You really have changed. And more than your looks.”

A sigh. “I spent my whole life trying to earn the affection of someone who honestly didn’t care if I ever even existed. At best, I was a briefly fashionable accessory. I’m living my life, my way now.”

Alicia had slipped into a vintage long-sleeved knit mini-dress in sunflower yellow, and a pair of white flats. Chloé took a moment to assist Alicia with her make-up.

“There", Chloé smiled. “More than presentable.”

“She’s not some dress-up doll", Marinette muttered.

Alicia flicked an eye open to regard Marinette dubiously. “I don’t have enough practice yet, and looking into a mirror is…upsetting for me. Besides, I rather like being fussed over a little bit.”

“That was rude of me, Alicia. I’m sorry”, Marinette apologised.

“We dumped an awful lot on you last night, Marinette, not the least of which is us knowing about your…thing", Alicia nodded. “I think we can be forgiving with each other.” 

Marinette flicked a finger back and forth between Chloé and Alicia. “Is she always this reasonable? You two are night and day.”

A bark of laughter from Chloé. “Oh, hell no. The first time ‘Lishe spoke to me she cussed me out for being a selfish bitch.”

“Alya’s not gonna know what hit her.” Marinette’s smile was devious.

Chloé smirked. “Think you can keep quiet about us until tomorrow at school?”

“I’ll bring the snacks. I’m not missing this show for the world!”

Alicia stood up. “Well?”

Chloé took a deep breath to steady her nerves. “Now or never.”

“You okay?” Genuine concern in Marinette’s voice.

“No", Chloé admitted. “Doing it anyway.” 

*-*-*

Chloé tugged the front of her black leather jacket snug, a semiconscious tell that she wanted to be wrapped in protective armor. The canvas backpack hung over one shoulder, Alicia clinging to her opposite arm.

“We don’t have to do this, you know?”, Chloé wavered, staring through the plate glass doors into the immaculate lobby of Le Grand Paris Hotel. “I have my own bank accounts. We could go someplace no-one has ever heard of the family. Live quietly…”

A gentle kiss from Alicia. “I know you’re scared-"

“Terrified”, Chloé shivered. “What if she's there?” Alicia caught the very subtle shading in Chloé’s voice in reference to her despised mother.

Alicia took both of Chloé's hands in hers, looking her straight inn the eyes. “You overcame your demons, and the Train, and convinced me to follow you into a world so open and loud and confusing I’m barely holding on myself. You can do this.

Or, you walk away. We walk away. We let her win. 

Choose. But know, no matter what, I’m here for you. Always.”

A gentle kiss bolstered Chloé's spirits.

“Fuck it. We’re going in.”

Chin held high, hand-in-hand with Alicia, Chloé shoved the plate glass door open and strode inside.

For a moment, silence. Fragile as fine crystal, more ephemeral than a soap bubble about to burst.

Chaos. Raised voices. Orders yelled into telephone handsets. Running footsteps clattering on gleaming white marble tile.

The family butler, Jean, bustled forward in the confusion. “I’m very sorry, but we are not entertaining any more pretenders and imitators, especially tasteless ones who arrive as a set. You will please leave immediately”, he ordered brusquely.

“It’s me, Jean.”

“Get. Out.” Jean was just short of actually displaying irritation. “The police have been summoned to deal with you.”

Chloé sighed, turning to leave. “Yeah, I knew I’d be dealing with that eventually. Say hi to Daddy, Jean What-ever-your-name-is.” 

“Mademoiselle Chloé!! It really is you!”

“Can I see Daddy?”

“But of course!”, Jean beamed, ushering Chloé towards the private elevator, Alicia in tow. “You there, cancel les flics. They are not needed! Mademoiselle Chloé, she has come home!”

“How did you know it was me?”, Chloé inquired quietly in the elevator.

Jean smiled. “You are the only one to ever consistently get my name wrong, and only you ever called me ‘Whats-your-name'.”

“What is your real name?”

“Jean will suffice, mademoiselle.” A smile, private.

The elevator pinged, doors opening onto the Bourgeois family private residential floor. Jean led them to her father’s private office.

“Your daughter has returned, sir.”

Andre Bourgeois looked up from the scattered papers on his desk. Impeccable as always. Thinner. Greyer. A small, sad smile. He rose from behind the desk, striding forward to wrap Alicia in a fond paternal embrace. “It’s so very good to have you home safe at last, princess.”

“Umm…” Alicia was very uncomfortable.

Chloé almost smirked. Almost.

The desperation in her father’s eyes was heartbreaking.

“Come, sit down”, Andre said, leading Alicia to the visitors chairs in front of his desk. “Tell me everything you can remember about your ordeal. The perpetrators who abducted you will be found and punished most severely!”, he promised, fussing over Alicia.

Alicia cast a terrified, pleading look at Chloé, who darted close.

“Oh. This must be the brave young lady who helped rescue you”, Andre sniffed. “Don’t worry. You’ll be handsomely compensated in due time.”

Chloé put a hand on her father’s arm. “I’m Chloé, Daddy.”

Horrible confusion on her father’s face. “Pardon me?!”

Chloé looked sadly at her parent. “This is going to be very difficult to explain, and you probably won’t believe me, but for right now, I’m home.”

“What did those horrible ruffians do to you, my princess?”

“Nothing. I did it to myself. I…grew up.”

Andre looked like he was about to speak when they were interrupted.

“Oh. Clorox. You’re back.” Audrey Bourgeois, clad in her trademark cleavage displaying sleeve-less jumpsuit, sunglasses concealing her eyes, slopping martini glass in hand.

Alicia had reached her limit. Almost leaping out of her seat, she stalked across the floor to confront the arrogant self-important fashionista. “That is your daughter, your own child!”, Alicia snapped, pointing at Chloé. “Her name, you ignorant poser, is Chloé!”

Audrey sniffed disdainfully. “Really, Christine, if you’re going to hire an impersonator, hire one with some talent. Or diction. And especially better taste in clothes. Black leather is so…", a contemptuous flick of her free hand, "tacky.”

The slap across Audrey Bourgeois’ face cracked like a cannon shot. Designer sunglasses knocked flying, martini glass dropped to shatter and spill on the immaculate parquet floor. A livid red handprint shining on the fashion designer’s cheek. 

“You. Bitch!”, Alicia hissed venomously, breathing hard, fists balled.

“Y-you’re fired!!”, Audrey howled indignantly. “I’ll have you sued! Arrested!”

“MOTHER!!”, Chloé thundered. “SHUT THE FUCK UP!!”

“Language, Chloé!”, her father chastised, shocked.

“Cram it, old man!”, Chloé snapped. “Stop defending that…that…puh-puh-person!!” Tears of rage threatened to spill, did spill. “I n-nuh-never want to suh-see her again!! Sh-sh-she's nuh-n-not muh-my muh-muh-mother!! Nnnnn-nuh-never has b-been!!” Chloé was shaking, foot stamping, hands clenching and releasing unconsciously as she howled her released emotions. “Sh-sh-she ab-buh-buh-bandoned muh-me!!”

Alicia clutched Chloé tightly as she sobbed, glaring stark hatred at Audrey over Chloé's shoulder. “Get out”, she hissed. “If I ever see you again, I’ll cut you so bad no mirror will want to show you your face!”

“Andre! Do something! Fire them!!”, Audrey lamented, hand to her stinging cheek.

Andre looked at his daughter being consoled by her double. “It’s over, Audrey.”

“I’ll sue you!”, Audrey screeched, mortified. “I’ll sue you for everything you have!!”

Andre quietly walked over to confront his soon-to-be ex-wife. “I’ll bury you under a mountain of child abandonment and emotional abuse charges. In fact, I'll be seeking settlement for a decade of child support back payments in our divorce proceedings. On top of spousal abuse.”

“Stop being utterly ridiculous! You wouldn’t dare, you spineless fop!! You’re fired!!”, Audrey sniffed in dismissal.

“Jean? Please show Madame Bourgeois out, would you? We’re done here.”

Jean actually smiled. “With the greatest of pleasure, Monsieur!”, he assured his employer. “Madame?” A hint of steel in his polite address.

Audrey stormed out in a huff, sunglasses forgotten.

Andre resumed his seat behind his desk. “Will you be returning to classes, princess? Or do you need to take some time?”

Chloé sniffled, wiping away tears. “I think I n-need to get b-back to a n-normal schedule as s-sssss-soon as p-possible, D-daddy. Th-therapy, too. Oh, and Alicia is c-coming with me. She'll n-need special attention to c-catch up.”

“Alicia is…?”, Andre inquired.

“Umm…I’m Alicia", she introduced herself. “I’m…complicated.”

“She’s my g-girlfriend, Daddy.”

Andre smirked. “Is that how it’s going to be?”

Chloé nodded, emphatic. “Don’t p-push me, Daddy. I’ll l-leave if Alicia can’t ssss-s-stay!”

Andre smiled, indulgent. “Nothing but the best for my little girl. Welcome home, Alicia.”


	3. So Break My Heart If You Must

Chloé Bourgeois, blonde, attractive, wealthy heiress, daughter of the Mayor of Paris, tossed the simple canvas backpack on the floor of her bedroom and leaned her back against the closed door, eyes shut, breathing deeply.

“Are you alright?” Concern in Alicia’s voice.

Chloé raised her hand, motioning her former reflection, now exceptionally intimate confidant and something more than lover to give her space and a moment of quiet.

“P-p-puh-please”, Chloé whispered. “I j-just n-n-nuh-need a muh-minute…”

Alicia hovered anxiously nearby, unsure what to do.

More deep breaths.

Chloé opened her eyes, comparing her memory of her expansive bedroom to the reality before her. Virtually untouched. Her father had almost treated her room as a shine, preserved, held in hopes of her return.

Sterile. 

Not…inhabited, actually lived in as Marinette’s garret bedroom had been.

“Better?”

Chloé nodded. 

“I…”, Alicia began, looked away. “I’m sorry I slapped her.”

Chloé shook her head. “D-don’t buh-be--F-fuck!!” Her fist slammed against the closed door behind her. “Shu-sh-sh-she had it c-coming! Goddamnit!! I huh-had th-this f-f-FUCKING stu-stu-sss-stutter under c-control!”

“How long?”

“Ever s-since the b-b-bitch wuh-wuh-walked out on muh-me! Ssss-stress buh-brings it b-back.” Chloé sighed, despondent. “Buh-back to sss-speech th-therapy…”

Alicia opened her arms, offering an embrace that Chloé almost fell into. “My poor baby", Alicia consoled as she gently stroked the short fuzz of Chloé's undercut, soothing her. They stood, silent, as Chloé calmed down.

“Thank you…” Quiet, appreciative. Honest.

Alicia kissed Chloé’s forehead. “Any time, babe.”

“God, you m-must think I’m such a child”, Chloé fretted.

Alicia shook her head. “Never. You’ve been through so much. More than most people ever face.”

“Wanna look around? It’s your room, your home t-too."

“Can I admit I’m more than a wee, tiny bit curious?”, Alicia smiled. “I…didn’t get a great view from my side of the mirror. The contents of your closet I am very familiar with, clothes-horse.”

Chloé held the back of her hand to her forehead dramatically. “Fashion. It’s my life.” She giggled. “C'mon. Grand tour time.”

A few minutes later, bedroom explored, Alicia clutched Chloé's hand tightly, peering over the edge of the private patio railing, swallowing hard. 

“That’s…a long, long way down”, she whispered, flinching slightly as a breeze gusted.

Chloé glanced over the edge. “Only six storeys. Nothing like the Tour Montparnasse.”

“Says you!” Alicia backed away. “God! It’s huge! So…open! And…” She waved her hands, at a loss to describe what she was experiencing. “Busy! So many…the smells! Sounds! Nothing like behind the glass!” Alicia started panting, blue eyes darting.

Chloé gently touched Alicia on the arm, then held her. “S-slow down. Focus. Breathe.”

Alicia gasped. “Can’t!” A harsher gasp, fear in her blue eyes. “Can’t…breathe!”

“Anxiety. You’re overstimulated. Panic attack.” Chloé maneuvered Alicia back inside, getting her to sit on the violet couch. “C'mon. Slow down. Shhhhh. Slow. Breathe…”

Alicia nodded, less frantic, clinging to her prime.

Holding each other. Chloé gently kissed Alicia along the part in her golden hair.

“Okay. I’m okay…”

“No, you’re not.”

Alicia giggled nervously, giddy from adrenaline. “Guess I’m in the fucked-up mess club now, huh?”

“I’m guessing acrophobia”, said Chloé. 

Alicia glanced at her prime. “What’s that?”

“Fear of heights.”

“Not gonna lie. Not a fan.”

“Hungry?”, Chloé inquired.

“Very!”

“I’ll get Jean to bring something up.”

“Pizza?”

“Ugh. Really?” Chloé looked askance at Alicia.

“I like pizza.”

“That party house was a very bad influence on you”, Chloé smirked. “Fine. Pizza for you, sushi for me.”

“What’s sushi?”

Chloé grinned. “You’re about to find out.”

*-*-*

Propped up on pillows, fresh from a shared shower, sated from their meal earlier, Chloé and Alicia snuggled on the queen size bed, Chloé reading quietly to Alicia, going slowly. Amber light from the bedside lamp.

Alicia sighed quietly, contented, head on Chloé's shoulder.

Chloé paused, turning the page, a gentle, indulgent smile.

“Books are much more enjoyable on this side…”, Alicia murmured.

Chloé glanced at her. “Oh?”

“All I could see was the covers”, Alicia shrugged.

A finger closed in the book to mark their place. “You really want to learn, don’t you?”, Chloé asked.

“It was so…boring on the other side. Just sitting around, waiting for you. Nothing to do. Usually no-one to even talk to.”

“I didn’t know…”, Chloé apologised.

“Until I could talk to you on the Train, how could you know?”

“We should get some sleep. School tomorrow.”

“Chloé?”

“Yes, love?”

“I’m scared.”

The light clicked off at Chloé's touch. A deep breath. “So am I.”

*-*-*

A hastily arranged hour long meeting before the school opened in the office of the school administrator between her father and M. Damocles had left Chloé jittery and high-strung. The elder Bourgeois had to call in no few favors and pull several strings to get Chloé returned to class in the middle of term, and get Alicia registered at all.

“Most irregular!”, owlish M. Damocles had harrumphed more than once, but was eventually relented, convinced by the presentation of a generous endowment by her father to the school. A modified class schedule was agreed upon, and neighboring lockers were located and assigned, school supplied tablet computers allotted, and school identification issued. Alicia peered at her photograph, apparently delighted.

*-*-*

Rumors swirled in the locker room. Whispers that the notorious Chloé Bourgeois had reappeared, that she’d been spotted riding an intercity transit bus, been seen walking the streets of Paris, or has actually dared to return home.

Marinette DuPain-Chang smiled to herself, knowing the truth. And knowing the truth was far stranger in fact than any possible rumor.

“Girl, I know that look", auburn-ombre haired Alya Cesaire said from behind her glasses. “You’re up to something. Either that or you got laid over the weekend.”

“No to both", Marinette smirked. “Besides, Luka was out of town.”

“So you and Guitar Man still haven’t done the deed?”, Alya teased gently.

“Probably because Luka doesn’t want to end up in a tin of Canigou”, Lila Rossi quipped as she strode past, flipping one on her beaded forelock ponytails dismissively, pretending to ignore the glares from Marinette and Alya, but inwardly relishing them.

“She’s going to go too far one of these days…”, Alya muttered darkly, staring daggers at the back of the retreating Italian transfer student.

Marinette sighed. “Mom and dad can’t afford another round of lawyers to take her to court for slander again. The shop barely survived the last one.”

The first bell for classes rang.

“C'mon. We’re gonna be late”, Alya urged.

“I’ll catch up", Marinette nodded. Alya was rightly dubious, but departed for class.

Finally, convinced Chloé and Alicia were a no-show, Marinette closed her locker door, jumping when she saw the two girls standing there. “What are you doing?!”, she hissed.

Chloé, dressed in a long-sleeve white button down tailored shirt under a black silk fitted waistcoat above a striking yellow and black tartan mini-skirt and black fish-net stockings that surely violated school dress code guidelines, tapped the toe of one black hi-top on the floor, winking a smile as she bobbed her ponytail above the shaved undercut in greeting.

Alicia was just as striking in a bright lemon yellow spaghetti-strap sundress under a lacy white cardigan, hair pulled back in a simple, classy chignon with ringlets at her temples. “Bonjour, Marinette”, she grinned.

“Jesus wept, Chloé, you’re going to make half the boys in class pass out dressed like that!”, Marinette snapped.

“It’s called ‘making an entrance', Marinette”, Chloé grinned. “You might try it sometime. Maybe in something spandex…”

“Honestly, Chloé!”, Alicia hushed her prime. “I can’t take you anywhere!”

“You two are going to be the death of me!”, Marinette muttered. The second class bell rang. “C'mon. We’re late.”

*-*-*

Alya shook her head affectionately at Marinette as her best friend entered the classroom, late. 

Then stared, stunned, mouth gaping in shock as Chloé Bourgeois, the bitch queen herself, strode into the room like she was on a Milan catwalk, openly holding hands with…herself? But punk?

What the hell was going on?!

Whispers, shock, rippled through the classroom like a flash fire.

The two Chloés stopped in front of Mademoiselle Bustier's desk, the punk one waving, a self-conscious, nervous smile on her face. “Hi. Yes, it’s me. C-Chloé. I’m b-back. This is Alicia. She’s m-my girlfriend.” 

Alya's head snapped around, looking to the corner in the back row where Sabrina Raincomprix had retreated over a year ago, more shy, hesitant, and unconfident than ever. The ginger-haired girl was shivering, trembling.

“If this is a joke, it’s a goddamn sick one!”, Alya barked, half-standing, enraged. She may not actually have been friends with Sabrina, but this was cruelty on a new scale. 

A hand on her shoulder cautioned Alya to not fly off the handle. “Sit down, Alya", Marinette advised quietly. “Let this play out.”

“You knew?! You didn’t tell me?!” Alya was pissed.

Chloé took a deep breath, leading her double up the steps towards Sabrina, who simply moaned, highly distraught.

“You’re not real! You’re not here! You're not here! I’m seeing things again!”, Sabrina whimpered, drawing away.

Chloé held out her hand, palm up. Gentle. Reassuring. “I’m home, Sabrina.”

Sabrina shook her head violently in denial. “No, no, no, no, no! You’re fake! You’re not real!”

A gentle touch was all it took.

Sabrina launched herself at Punk Chloé, small fists pounding her shoulders, howling.

“You left me! You left me! I was all alone!”, Sabrina accused, devastated.

Chloé wrapped Sabrina tightly in her arms. “Yes. And I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I have a lot of explaining to do, a lot to even try to make up for.”

“You’ve got a girlfriend!”, Sabrina whimpered, hurt. “I loved you! It should be me!”

Chloé looked at the ceiling, tears threatening. “It’s…really complicated, Sabrina. Will you let me explain?”

“Why does she look like you?!”, Sabrina demanded.

“That’s part of what I, we, have to explain.”

Mademoiselle Bustier cleared her throat, reclaiming the class’ attention. “If Chloé and Alicia will take their seats, I’ll take attendance and we can begin the lesson.”

Taking Sabrina by her right hand, Alicia took Sabrina‘s left, Chloé leading them both to the desk at the front of the row. Staring down Lila Rossi, who sat alone.

“You’re in my seat.”

A beat of silence.

“Move. Now.”


	4. Why Is Everybody Telling Everybody What You Have Done?

The lunch cafeteria at Collège François DuPont was a surging, subtle maelstrom of speculation, innuendo, supposition, disbelief, and in some corners, outright fabrication regarding the unexpected, unannounced reappearance of one of the school's most notable, if notorious, members of the student body.

Aware of the remarkable stir she was causing, Chloé Bourgeois sat at a smaller out-of-the-way table, deliberately out of earshot to prevent convenient eavesdropping, texting rapidly with her former girl-of-all-work Sabrina Raincomprix, only occasionally sharing a hushed brief conversation with her girlfriend Alicia, the existence of whom was causing some distress to the bespectacled redhead.

Some three meters away at the closest table, Alya Cesaire still glared daggers at her best friend Marinette DuPain-Chang. Alya's boyfriend Nino Lahiffe was engaged in slightly over the top attempts to lighten the mood between the two girls.

“I can’t believe you didn't tell me when Chloé and her…whatever she is…turned up on your doorstep!!’, the voluptuous Martiniquan redhead fumed, stabbing viciously at the leaves in her green salad with her fork.

“Maybe because we all know this is precisely how you would have over-reacted”, Marinette pointed out, concentrating on her own meal. “Don’t tell me you wouldn’t have been jumping to conclusions.”

Alya almost dropped her small bowl of greens to cross her arms indignantly. “I’m not that bad…”

“You’re the one who spent two weeks trying find a lab to test dog biscuits for human remains”, Marinette deadpanned. “Not the first time you believed Lila either, is it?”

Alya had the grace to look ashamed. “Why do you put up with me?”

A shrug from Marinette. “’Cause you’re my friend. It’s what friends do for each other.”

“I was trying to clear your name…”, Alya grumbled.

“And don’t think I didn’t appreciate the gesture", Marinette nodded, blue-black ponytails bobbing. “I know you meant well, but I had to answer another round of questions with the police at the time.”

Alya sighed. “So where did Queenie find the carbon copy?” Changing the subject.

“If she hears you call her that, I’m might just let Chloé take a swing at you”, Marinette scowled.

“Since when did you defend Chloé?!”

“I’m not defending anyone”, Marinette pointed out. “I’m trying to give you some advice. And Chloé's girlfriend is…complicated.”

“Is Alicia some kinda alien clone or what?”, Nino grinned.

“No", Marinette smiled, a little sad. “Alicia is a girl Chloé met on a Train. They saved each other's lives.”

“Get out…”, Alya thrilled, breathless. “Chloé told you how they met?!”

Marinette nodded. “It’s not my place to tell you. Chloé might. Maybe.”

“Since when did you become the bitch whisperer?”, Alya mocked good-naturedly.

“Saturday night, apparently.”

Alya's curiosity was definitely piqued. “What happened Saturday night?”

Marinette shrugged. “Chloé and Alicia turned up at the bakery, and we, well, came to an understanding.”

“Gonna tell me what happened?” Alya resumed spearing forkfuls of salad greens.

“Nope.”

“Girl, you can be an absolute sphinx when you want to be mysterious, you know that?”, Alya mused.

*-*-*

Sabrina brushed aside a tear and resettled her glasses after reading Chloé's last text, letting out a little sigh.

“Oh.” Looking up at Chloé, who was doing her best to not show her unhappiness. Alicia held Chloé's hand, comforting, not jealous or possessive. “Umm…”

“That’s not even half of it", Chloé frowned.

“So all this time…you’ve been…”

“Been behaving like an utter bitch because I was miserable”, Chloé nodded. “I understand if you don’t want to hang out with me anymore.”

“I missed you. A lot”, Sabrina admitted. “I…I don’t make that many friends. And being the daughter of a cop just makes it that much harder. So…”

“Sabrina?”

“Yes, Alicia?”

“I'd—I’d like to be your friend. If you want to, that is…”, Alicia blushed. “Chloé might have been, well, not the best friend--"

“Gee, thanks!”, Chloé smirked.

“Hush, prime", Alicia poked Chloé. “I’m trying to behave.”

Sabrina giggled. “She’s like your conscience come to life, the good angel on your shoulder.”

“Wait until she swears at you. Mouth like a Marseilles sailor…”, Chloé deadpanned.

“That was a special circumstance, and I apologized afterward”, Alicia pointed out. “May I continue?”

Chloé motioned to do so with an upturned open palm.

“As I was saying, Chloé may not have been perfect, but she did, does care about you”, Alicia nodded. “And anyone Chloé cares about, I’d like to get to know too. So…again, do you think we can be friends?”

“I…think so?”, Sabrina blushed. “It’s just a little weird, because you look and sound exactly like Chloé. And…well, I’m still in love with her.“

Chloé sniffed, looking away, guilt in her eyes. “Can…can we talk about this later? Not here? T-too m-m-many s-snoops. Shit! I huh-hate th-this d-damn….”, she broke off, flustered.

Both Alicia and Sabrina moved to help calm Chloé as she took several deep breaths, eyes closed.

“You have to admit, it’s a brilliant tactic, hiring a body-double to ensure maximum drama”, Lila Rossi sneered as she deliberately passed nearby, going out of her way to pass Chloé's table as she carried her cafeteria tray to the rolling rack.

“And just what are you implying, Lie-la?”, Alya quipped, feeling combative and not wanting to confront Marinette or Chloé.

“Isn’t it obvious?”, Lila simpered. “Her shameful teen pregnancy.”

“WHAT?!” Chloé's head snapped up, blue eyes blazing in outrage.

“Oh shit…”, muttered Marinette. “Here we go…”

“It’s the only possible explanation”, Lila continued, reveling in the spotlight, knowing her rumor would be taken at face value. “Chloé Bourgeois, notorious hotel heiress had a torrid clandestine liaison that, tragically, resulted in a bastard. So she ‘disappears', changes her looks, and comes back, la-tee-dah.”

You could have heard a pin drop in the silence as the entire cafeteria considered the possibility Lila was right.

“By the way, Chloé, marvelous job on dropping the post-preggo weight”, Lila grinned nastily. “Which agency did you use to sell your bastard? Or did you keep the little sin-child?”

Silent, Chloé rose from her seat.

“Baby?, Alicia pleaded. “Are you…?”

Chloé patted Alicia’s hand, a minute shake of her head, pushed her chair back just enough to step free, and walked over to face Lila.

“That’s the best you could come up with, Lila?”, the blonde heiress asked quietly. “I’m not surprised you'd stoop to that though. After all, ‘sei solo una puttana di una famiglia di puttane’.” Chloé's Italian was perfect, her dismissive and contemptuous hand gestures a perfect visual accompaniment.

Lila paled, shocked.

Slapped Chloé as hard as she could.

Chloé stood there for a moment, hand to her flaming cheek, then burst into tears and fled the cafeteria, shoving past the teacher who had just entered.

“MISS ROSSI!”, Madame Mendeleiev thundered. “Report to Monsieur Damocles, immediately!“

Humiliated, Lila stomped out of the cafeteria.

“Busted!”, Sabrina, Alya and Nino cheered at the same time.

Marinette had just happened to have been looking at Alicia when Lila had slapped Chloé, and saw the flat, inhuman, expressionless rage in her eyes. She excused herself, going in search of Chloé, and finding her in the bathroom, dry-eyed, calmly inspecting her face in the mirror, looking over the bright red palm print.

Chloé smirked at Marinette. “I think she gave me a b-black eye. Bitch.”

“You played her.”

Chloé nodded. “Lila’s not the only one who knows how to put on a show.”

“Chloé!!”

“What? She didn’t have it coming?”

“That’s not the point!”, Marinette objected.

“Dog biscuits.”

“What?!”

“Dog. Biscuits”, Chloé enunciated.

The penny dropped for Marinette. “Oh my god! You're evil!”, she grinned.

“I’m going to freshen up, then head home. I think I’ve had enough for today”, Chloé nodded. “Let Alicia and Sabrina know I’m okay?”

“When did I become your errand girl?”, Marinette muttered.

“Hmm. Probably after two shots of brandy and we buried the hatchet.”

“You might want to let Alicia know you plan to leave.”

“I’ll text Sabrina and ask her to escort Alicia home. Bonding time, I guess.”

Marinette only groaned.

*-*-*

Marinette left Chloé in the bathroom, and encountered Lila Rossi, looking venomous, before she ran into anyone else, and made a quick decision, yanking the Italian girl into an unused classroom.

“Oh, no, don’t beat me!”, Lila wailed theatrically.

“Cut the crap, Rossi", Marinette growled.

Lila dropped the act with a superior smirk. “You’ve got five seconds before I get you expelled again.”

“I only need two” Marinette shot back. “Run.”

“Are you actually threatening me, DuPain-Chang?”, Lila bristled.

“No, warning you. I’m not the one you pissed off.”

“I’m not scared of Sabrina or her father. Because of my mother, I’ve got diplomatic immunity", Lila bragged. 

“That’s not going to protect you.”

“You are threatening me!”

Marinette backed away. “I did my part. I warned you. My hands are clean.” She left the room.

*-*-*

Chilled by the truth in Marinette’s dismissive tone, Lila scurried out of the building. 

She almost made it to the sidewalk.

Someone grabbed the back of her jacket, yanking, hurling her backward for Lila to slam painfully into the brick wall, a steel-hard forearm pressing hard over her throat, pushing her head back, choking her.

Inhuman, unblinking metallic blue eyes boring into her shriveled excuse for a soul.

“You do not approach Chloé. You do not speak to Chloé. You do not look at Chloé. And. You. Do. Not. Touch. Chloé.

Ever.

Do I make myself utterly, precisely understood?”

The voice was flat, emotionless, almost hollow.

Lila nodded, frantic.

“This is your one warning.”

Alicia stood back, releasing Lila.

“Run.”


	5. Close Your Eyes and Try to Sleep Now

Friday.

Almost a week since Chloé had come home.

A week of tumultuous readjustment for Chloé, her father, the staff of Le Grand Paris Hotel, and her class at school. At the same time, Chloé had been carefully, protectively exposing Alicia to the wider world, an effort that had provoked a sharp exchange of words between the two that was eventually resolved mostly peaceably. After some petulant pouting. And introducing Alicia to ice cream.

Alicia had taken to school and classwork with surprising speed, and while some finer concepts were rapidly improving with practice, she excelled at coming to reasonable conclusions with limited information, frequently providing unexpected insights or observations. Mathematics challenged her initially, but once she grasped a basic concept, Alicia delighted at the clean, predictable results. She’d also proven a demon at competitive sports, especially basketball; her jump shot was viciously precise from any place on the court.

Sabrina had once again become a fixture, visiting Chloé at the hotel, assisting Chloé with tutoring Alicia once the reason why she needed the help had been explained. Chloé found herself forced to deal with conflicting impulses of jealousy and pride, seeing the two girls huddled closely together while Sabrina explained something to Alicia. Increasingly, Sabrina seemed to be more agitated or distractible, her hands hovering, not touching, but oh, so very tempted.

Chloé finally decided something had to be done about the situation before there was an incident and feelings were irreparably hurt.

“Sabrina, do you have any plans for the weekend?”, Chloé asked during lunch on Thursday.

“No?”, came the slightly hesitant reply.

“Good”, Chloé nodded. “Tell your father your sleeping over Friday night, probably Saturday night as well.”

Alicia raised an eyebrow in inquiry. “What are you thinking, prime?”

“An extended girls night”, Chloé had smiled primly, pleased with herself.

And now, here they were, Friday afternoon, free from school commitments. “What do we want to do first?”, Chloé inquired, smiling.

“The bakery!”, Alicia cheered.

“I should never have introduced you to those raspberry macarons”, Chloé giggled.

“Gimme!”, Alicia mock pouted. “Seriously, I would like to stop in.”

Chloé smiled, indulgent. “Very well. We'll buy a box of macarons to enjoy tonight.”

“That’s not why I want to go", Alicia explained. “I—I want to apply for a job. Contribute. To…I don’t know. Not feel like I'm…”

Chloé nodded. “I…think I understand.”

The trio opened the bakery door and entered, greeted somewhat dubiously by Marinette's mother. “Good afternoon…Chloé. Girls. How can I help you?”

Alicia stepped forward. “Good afternoon, Mrs. DuPain-Chang. I was wondering if you might be hiring? Not baking, of course! But perhaps…counter service?”

Sabine DuPain-Chang blinked. “That's…unexpected, Chloé.”

Chloé stepped close, waving. “Umm, hi. I’m Chloé. This is my girlfriend, Alicia.”

Another blink of surprise from Sabine.

“Is this some kind of trick?”

“Hi, mom, I'm…oh…”, Marinette breezed in, enthusiasm deflating. “Hi, Chloé. What are you doing here?”

“Alicia just asked your mother for a job”, Chloé explained.

Marinette let the door swing closed. “Why? You get cut off?”

“Marinette, what is going on?”, her mother demanded.

Marinette slid behind the counter. “Remember how I said Chloé was back in town? Well, here she is. The girl who sorta mostly looks like her twin is her girlfriend, Alicia.”

“I thought you and Chloé didn’t get along?”

Chloé smiled, chagrined, looking at the floor. “People change, Mrs. DuPain-Chang. The smart ones try to change for the better.”

A shrug from Marinette. “It’s true, mom. Chloé is maybe a fifth of the bi…challenge she used to be before she disappeared. Maybe give her, and Alicia, a chance.”

“That’s very grown up of you, Marinette”, Sabine nodded, proud of her daughter's maturity. She glanced at Alicia. “When can you start?”

“Monday? After school?”, Alicia hoped.

“You’ll be working with Marinette. Is that a problem?”

Alicia smiled. “Not at all. We can work on my lessons when it's quiet, if that's alright? Marinette is tutoring me, helping me get caught up on school”, she explained.

Sabine looked at Marinette, surprised and proud. “Most acceptable”, she smiled. “We'll see you Monday.”

“You owe me, Chloé”, Marinette grinned, feeling slightly superior.

“Two dozen macarons, baker girl", Chloé quipped good-naturedly. “One box raspberry, one box assorted. And a chocolate éclair for Sabrina.”

*-*-* 

Chloé sat on the recently acquired upholstered bench near her bedroom door, unlacing the knee-high imported black Chuck Taylor Converse shoes, kicking them off with a small sigh, then padded over to open the sliding doors to the now very professionally screened-off patio. She’d explained the necessity of the expense to her father as a not-unreasonable precaution against fluttering pests. She hadn’t told him about the near-phobic nightmares about being re-akumatised that she'd been having.

The additional functional protection had also eased Alicia's acrophobia to the point she was now willing to join Chloé on the patio.

Sabrina set down her schoolbag with a faint, contented smile. Over the past week, she’d been more-or-less privy to the minor though noticeable shifts in Chloé's room from palatial decorator showcase to almost typical older teenage girl's bedroom, albeit a very spacious one shared with her near-identical in appearance and habits girlfriend. That was a concept Sabrina was still trying to get used to.

The…unique…couple were remarkable compatible, disagreeing on very little, but had pronounced differences in personality.

Chloé could be, frequently still was, brash, brassy, demanding, occasionally self-centered. But after returning from her still mysterious disappearance, Chloé would actually admit to her infrequent cowardice. And apologized to people. And listened.

On the other hand, Alicia, while visually almost identical, was calm, polite, understanding, and thought of others. She was also brave. And she also listened, but in a different way.

Sabrina had loved, desired, Chloé, mostly in secret, for years. Now she was scared. She thought she was falling in love with Alicia as well, and it somehow felt like she was cheating on Chloé.

Alicia had departed to the en-suite to change into her after school attire, comfortable, rather baggy track pants and a t-shirt purchased at a second-hand clothing store for a handful of euros. This was Sabrina's window of opportunity.

“Umm, Chloé”, Sabrina began. “Can I…touch it? Your hair, I mean”, Sabrina gestured, hesitant, at the back of her own head.

Chloé nodded with a smile, then turned away slightly. “Sure! It probably needs a bit of a touch-up.”

Sabrina’s touch was gentle, tentative, feather-light. Rather pleasant. The soft stubble was like slightly stiff velvet, silky.

Chloé's breath hitched, ever so slightly. She turned, about to ask Sabrina to stop, feeling a surge of conflicting emotion…

…And unexpectedly encountered a pair of lips kissing hers. Soft. Hungry. Slightly desperate and insistent. The warm, intimate hand on the back of her neck. A quiet moan.

Chloé gently pushed Sabrina back, surprised. Confused.

“Oh, God!”, Sabrina whispered, mortified. “I'm—I—I better go…”

A quiet chuckle from behind Sabrina made both her and Chloé jump slightly, flashes of guilt in their eyes.

“I was wondering when, and which one of us, you’d kiss first”, Alicia smiled. “Her lips are so soft, aren’t they?”

Sabrina wanted to fall through the floor.

“You’re not mad?”, Chloé blinked.

Alicia trilled laughter. “Not in the least! Don’t you remember? I used to console Sabrina’s reflection after you two fell asleep when you had sleepovers!”

“Wait!”, Sabrina gestured, pushing down with her hands, trying to get a grasp on the situation. “You…kissed my…what?? So that wild story about this mysterious Train, is all true?”

Alicia gently took Sabrina’s hand. “Yes. Every word.”

Sabrina stared imploringly at Chloé, who nodded.

“Alicia is…"

“Isn’t…human?”, Sabrina asked.

“Does it matter? Really matter?”, Chloé looked Sabrina in the eye, honest. Just as imploring. Alicia’s hand was warm. Soft. Gentle.

“I didn’t mean to…”, Sabrina apologized.

“Yes, you did", Chloé smiled. And kissed Sabrina.

“But--", Sabrina's objection faded, lost in the haze of desire.

A long, timeless moment, then a gentle touch. “My turn”, Alicia smiled, and kissed Sabrina, just as gently, just as passionately.

Sabrina whimpered; elated, confused, delighted, overwhelmed. She pushed away, needing a moment to collect her thoughts.

“Oh”, Alicia sighed. “I missed that. Missed her. Do miss her. But this is…more.”

Chloé glanced at Alicia. “You were in love with your Sabrina.” Truth, not an accusation.

“And you, prime. But you were, are, first in my heart. Because I was always there for you”, Alicia smiled. “Sabrina, this Sabrina, is just so…soft and warm.”

“Mm-hmm", Chloé practically purred, stroking Sabrina’s hair. “I think this is a very bad idea I should have indulged in.”

Sabrina whimpered. “Chloé…?”

“Yes?”

“I’m so confused…”

“Do you love me?”

Sabrina nodded.

“Do you think you could love both of us?”

Sabrina nodded again, tears sliding down her cheeks.

Alicia smiled as Chloé motioned for her to join in embracing Sabrina, sharing a kiss between all three of them.

“This is going to be so complicated…”, Sabrina giggled.

“Delightfully, I think”, Chloé sighed.

*-*-*

The TV was playing quietly, volume down, soft blue light as some random episode of MST3K called up on an internet service filled the space in front of the couch now occupied by an improvised nest inhabited by Chloé, Alicia, and Sabrina in a comfortable cuddle puddle. Sabrina was tucked up against Chloé's right side under her arm, dozing, Chloé absently stroking her ginger hair. Alicia was similarly close on the left, head pillowed comfortably on Chloé's breast, snickering quietly at the antics of Mike and the two robots.

It felt…right. Proper.

Chloé smiled to herself, gazing out into the dark Paris night. ‘This is my home. And I’ll never give it up. I’ll protect it’, she thought to herself, almost understanding why Marinette did what she did as Ladybug.

Chloé kissed the tops of both her loves heads. 

“Time to make some changes around here…”, she murmured quietly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Friday, folks!


	6. All Else Are Castles Built In The Air

The terrified scream jolted Chloé out of her own fitful sleep. Alicia sitting bolt upright in bed, panicked eyes staring blindly into the faint predawn, panting hard, trembling, hands clutching at herself, mumbling softly.

“Baby?” Apprehension in Chloé's voice. 

“I fell…I was outside…and I fell”, Alicia mumbled. “So far down…and I shattered…”

“Your safe, ‘Lishe. I’m here.”

“Chlo? You won’t let me break?” A stifled sob.

Chloé embraced her love. “Never. You're safe.”

Alicia trembled, slowly relaxing, crying quietly into Chloé's shoulder, who stared into the early morning gloom, unable to return to sleep.

*-*-*

Morning, classes in particular were more than a bit of a trial. Madame Bustier had called on Chloé to start the traditional affirmation of kindness towards others, after a quiet disapproval of Chloé's beloved ‘Bollocks!’ raven t-shirt, which Chloé had challenged and dismissed with a raised eyebrow. Chloé stood, glancing around the classroom until her eye settled on a recurring irritant. A faint scoffing smirk. This was going to be fun.

“Lila…”

The Italian transfer student actually jumped in her seat when Chloé addressed her.

“You have a unique gift for spontaneous storytelling”, Chloé smiled, not unkindly.

Visibly flustered, and utterly unsure if Chloé was calling her out for her lies in front of the class, all Lila could do was look uncomfortable. Silence from the rest of the class. Lila could feel every eye on her, knowing she had to reply. And remembering the cold, dead-eyed stare. She coughed, clearing her throat.

“You, um”, Lila hesitated. “Your style has really changed from last year.” Barely audible.

Chloé nodded regally and sat. 

“That was…very precisely calculated”, Alicia acknowledged. She hadn’t slept well either, and Sabrina was giving both of them some serious mother-hen glances.

“I’m trying to behave.”

Alicia patted Chloé's hand affectionately. “I know, prime. I know.”

The morning dragged on, seemingly endless, shuffling from class to class.

‘This is utterly ridiculous’, Chloé thought to herself blearily, almost staggering into the washroom, intent on splashing cold water on her face to wake herself up. Or at least shock her system. 

The sound of running water almost masked the faint creak of an opening cubicle door. Braced against the sink, frigid water dripping from her delicate features, Chloé locked eyes with Lila Rossi reflected in the large mirror.

Lila froze. 

Chloé smirked. “I’m going to guess that you’re trying to figure out which tale to spin right now.”

Lila swallowed visibly.

“’Lishe really put the fear of God into you, didn’t she?”

Lila nodded. 

“She’s like that", Chloé smiled primly. “She’s primal, beautiful, like a thunderstorm late at night, lightning searing down out of the heavens…”

“You’re crazy…”, Lila whispered. 

Chloé trilled laughter. Uninhibited. “Girl, I’m straight-up batshit, didn’t you know? All kinds of wild stories floating around about my disappearance. Some of them might even be true.” Chloé turned, confronting the notorious deceiver, fished a plain white business card out of her hip pocket, held it out to Lila.

“Get some help, Lila.”

Lila didn’t move.

Chloé sighed. “I’m too tired to bullshit you, Rossi. Take the card. Make the call.”

The redhead plucked the card from Chloé’s fingertips. 

Chloé paused before opening the bathroom door. “One last thing: If you don’t get a grip on your life, soon, you might very well wind up where I did. And you might not come back. Ta.” Chloé strode out of the washroom with a casual, dismissive wave over her shoulder.

*-*-*

Alicia was bent over her schoolwork after her first shift behind the counter of the DuPain-Chang family bakery, head close to Marinette as the latter explained some particular point. She looked tired, mildly exasperated, a faint pout on her soft lips. Chloé leaned against the stairwell doorjamb, watching for a moment.

Sabine noticed Chloé, silently waved her over. “Alicia did very well for her first shift, but I think she’s very tired”, she nodded.

“We…didn’t sleep very well last night”, Chloé explained quietly. “I—W-we have nightmares s-sometimes. From our time…when we were muh-missing.”

The honest sympathy in the eyes of Marinette's mother was almost more than Chloé could bear. Her own mother had never once regarded her in that way. “Have you contacted her family? Told them where she is?”

“She’s all alone, Madam DuPain-Chang. I’m her only family now.”

Sabine frowned. “Nonsense!”

“Hah?”, Chloé was confused. 

“Nonsense!”, Sabine repeated. “Alicia? Are you hungry?”

“Pardon me, Madam DuPain-Chang?” Chloé could hear the thread of exhaustion in Alicia's voice.

Sabine fussed indignantly. “Honestly! Mayor of Paris, mister oh-so-important hotel owner, can’t even make sure his own daughter and her beloved have a decent meal! Sit! Both of you! Marinette! Set the table, then start chopping the vegetables! These girls are getting some real food!”

“N-n-no, rrrr-really, Madam DuPain-Chang, we'll order ruh-room sssss-service when we g-guh-get home”, Chloé protested. She could feel the heat rising in her cheeks.

“Don’t bother, Chloé”, Marinette grinned. “Mom’s decided you’re gonna stay for supper.”

Sabine bustled around the kitchen, extracting utensils from drawers, a wok from the lower cupboard, and ingredients from the refrigerator. “Chloé, would you be a dear and tell Thomas were having stir-fry?”

Neither Marinette or her mother paid the least attention to Chloé's stutter. Alicia caught it though, opening one tired eye to regard Chloé with concern. “I’ll do it, Madam DuPain-Chang. Chloé? Sit!”

Chloé surrendered to the inevitable. 

Supper was…controlled chaos. Chatter, questions about their days and classes, compliments on Alicia's first shift, and food. No, not just food. A meal unlike anything Chloé had ever experienced. A rich, pleasantly-salty, slightly-sweet savory gustatory indulgence, vegetables cooked but still delightfully crunchy, slivers of tender meat, and noodles spun in minutes by hand from a lump of dough then boiled immediately in a fragrant broth.

After the excellent meal, Marinette invited Chloé and Alicia up to her garret bedroom to relax and unwind. “Sorry about that", she apologized, perching in her red office chair. Chloé and Alicia sat on the chaise lounge. “Mom can be kinda old-fashioned about things sometimes.”

Chloé dismissed Marinette's concerns with a wave, frowning. “It's alright. At least your muh-muh-mom—g-g-Godammit!!”, she sighed.

Alicia rubbed her back, soothing Chloé.

Silence.

“Yuh-yuh-yes, I hhhh-have a s-sss-sss-stu-stutter! Ssss-so wuh-what?!”, Chloé glared, defensive.

Marinette shrugged. “Big deal.”

“It’s wuh-wuh-one of thhhh—Fuck!”, Chloé pounded a fist on her thigh. Frowned, concentrating. “It’s wuh-one of the r-r-reasons I’m buh-back in th-therapy. Guh-guh-go ahead! G-g-get your shhhh-shots in nuh-now!”

“It gets more pronounced when she’s stressed", Alicia explained gently.

Marinette picked up her guitar, idly strummed a soft chord. “I wasn’t going to say anything. But…you got stressed? By what?”

“Yuh-yuh-yuh--", Chloé began, visibly struggling.

“Your mom", Alicia finished.

Marinette’s noodling on her guitar stopped. “What?!”

“Suh-suh-sssecond buh-base!”, Chloé grinned.

It took Marinette a moment to make the connection. “Oh, goddamit, Chloé, you’re as bad as he is!”

Alicia giggled. “Baby, the look on her face!”

“Honestly, you two are the worst!”, Marinette mock-pouted, then changed the subject. “But really, why were you getting stressed over my mom?”

Chloé took a few moments to steady her breathing. “Yuh-your muh-mom is ev-everything muh-mine wasn’t. I’m stuh-stupid jealous of y-you”, she explained.

“Well, don’t be", Marinette scowled. “Mom gets on my case all the time about my schoolwork. Or helping out more in the bakery. And routinely chews me out when I disappear because of.. my thing. Or pressuring me to find a real boy, not some flighty musician, and settle down.”

“How are things wuh-with you and Luka?”

Marinette shrugged. “Comfortable. Sorta. I mean…he’s okay? I guess?”

“No puh-passion", Chloé nodded. 

Marinette shrugged again. “I guess I’m jealous of you then.”

“I’m s-sorry, Bugaboo.”

Silence.

“Can I try your guitar, Marinette?”, Alicia inquired.

Marinette passed it over. Alicia tried to strum a chord, almost succeeding.

“Here, like this…”, Marinette explained, demonstrating. “I’m not very good. I don’t practice enough to build up the callous I need.”

Alicia tried again. Better. Delight on her face.

Chloé smiled. “You should hear her sing.”

“Please, prime, I’m no-where near as good as you”, Alicia demurred.

Marinette blinked, looking at Chloé. “You. Sing.”

Chloé shrugged. “Part of muh-my speech th-therapy. F-for m-my…”

“That’s cool!”, Marinette grinned. 

Chloé frowned. “I p-prefer dancing, thank you!” Alicia continued quietly plucking at the guitar experimentally.

“I’m surprised you never tried to go pro", Marinette observed. “What with your whole princess-center-of-attention act.”

“It’s called ‘cuh-compensating'.”

“Huh?”

Chloé sighed, looking out the window. “I’m a m-mess, Marinette. Up here", Chloé tapped her temple. “That's wuh-where I was while ‘Lishe was here. In th-therapy.”

“I’m proud of you, Chloé”, Marinette said quietly. “I know, I understand, talking about this is hard for you.”

Chloé scoffed.

“Be nice, prime", Alicia cautioned quietly, slowly fingering a scale on the guitar.

“It’s weird, Marinette”, Chloé explained. “Other than Adrian, and ‘Brina, you're the closest thing I have to a friend.”

“How are things with Sabrina? I mean, since you came back?”

Chloé smirked. “Complicated.”

“I bet!”

“No, idiot!”, Chloé huffed. “We're good, better than ever. It’s just--"

“She’s dating both of us”, Alicia explained. “We’re a triad.”

“Package deal. Date me, date my…her”, Chloé dropped her head on Alicia's shoulder. “I really have to figure out what you are, baby. ‘Girlfriend' doesn’t begin to cover what you are.”

“Lover.”

Chloé and Alicia both blinked at Marinette. 

Marinette shrugged. “You love each other. So, lover.”

“I wish I could explain it better", Chloé shrugged. “But unless you have happen to you--"

“Hard pass, Chloé”, Marinette raised a hand to cut Chloé off. “I—I don’t know if I would have survived, honestly.”

Chloé scoffed again, amused. “We're both survivors, Mari.”

Marinette quirked an eyebrow at her former nemesis. “How so?”

“You didn’t ask to become…her. I didn’t ask to disappear for a year and a half. It just…happened to us. Was done to us.”

The guitar was silent.

“I think you two are friends", Alicia observed.

Silence.

“I think we all are. Now”, Chloé nodded.

Marinette stood. “It’s late. We have school tomorrow.”

“Yeah, we should go”, Chloé agreed, rising. 

Awkward silence.

“Oh, just hug already!”, Alicia exclaimed. “I’m tired. And I want my turn!”

Chloé and Marinette giggled. 

“She’s so demanding. Just impossible to deal with", Chloé deadpanned. 

“Utterly ridiculous”, Marinette agreed, embracing her rival, then Alicia. “Goodnight, you two. Call Sabrina, let her know where you were.”

“Yes, mom…”, Chloé mocked, good-naturedly. “See you tomorrow at school.” She took Alicia by the hand, leading her downstairs.

Marinette grinned to herself. “Alya's gonna blow a vessel.”


	7. No Matter Where You Hide I'm Coming After You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Graphic description of injury in this chapter.

Chloé sprinted through the streets of Paris, annoyed. Hell, she was pissed.

‘I’m not home for a month and that aubergine disgrace just has to send out an akuma!’, Chloé fumed silently, breathing hard, legs pumping, Doc Martin boots clattering on the pavement. 

Two steps behind, Alicia pushed hard to keep up, doing her best not to run right out of the cute flats she’d chosen that morning.

“Chloé!...Will…you…please...slow…down!”, Alicia panted.

Fortunately, they were close to where the amok-boosted akuma was wreaking havoc. Chloé pelted to a stop, peeking around the corner. “Caught it on the news. ‘Bug is down, and Chat's in trouble. I can’t, won't, let them down again!”

The augmented akuma was huge, vaguely feminine, almost canine, tawny red-umber, bestial and vicious, calling itself ‘Feral'. Three entire blocks of Paris had been completely leveled by the creature just to attract the attentions of Ladybug and Chat Noir. Casualties, carnage, and wanton destruction on a massive scale committed for the sake of causing suffering.

Chloé snatched up several chunks of shattered brick, cradling them in her arms.

“What are you planning, prime?” Alicia was wary, definitely not amused.

“Something really, really stupid", Chloé explained, embarrassed. “I’m gonna distract big bad over there, give Chat a chance to grab Bugaboo, and then you and I are gone!”

Alicia’s expression was not encouraging. 

“Two shakes, and we run like the flecs are after us, got it?”

Alicia nodded, and Chloé stepped around the corner, confronting a nightmare. Chat pole-vaulting in a doomed attempt at a kick, snatched out of the air with contempt by one leg, swung in a wide circle, dangling.

“Oh. Crud", Chat complained.

Feral eased it's grip for less than a second, almost not quite dropping him, catching Chat by his ankle, then grasping the same leg around the knee with it’s free hand, slowly, slowly, excruciatingly flexing the bones, Chat howling, no, screaming as the pressure increased until the brutal—

*!!SNAP!!*

“OH, GOD, NO!!!”, Chloé screamed as Feral grinned, too many unpleasantly sharp teeth.

The brick fragment smashed into Feral’s face. Three more pelted the beast in quick succession as Chloé stormed forward. Feral bellowed in outrage, not pain.

“YOU!!”, Feral boomed, recognising Chloé, dismissively tossing Chat Noir to rag-doll, slamming into the paving in front of the blonde heiress, his staff rolling up onto the toe of her right boot. “Now I don’t have to hunt you down! I’ll gut you while your precious little hero watches, helpless!”

‘This was a bad idea', Chloé realized as Feral loped towards her. ‘A really, really bad idea!’

Chloé kicked up Chat’s staff, caught it, ready to make a desperate last stand over the injured hero.

Something hit Feral just above it’s right eye, making it yowl in pain and rage.

“Grab the alley-cat!”, Alicia called. “I’ll keep ugly busy!”

Chloé darted in, staff in one hand, grabbing Chat by his costume collar with the other, hauling on it, dragging him towards a storefront not completely destroyed. “Sorry I can’t be gentle, kitty”, she apologised as Chat hissed in agony.

“’S'Alright", Chat moaned. “Can always land on the other foot!”

Feral batted away one of the chunks of brick, lunging at Alicia.

“No!”, Chloé yelled, swinging Chat’s staff up in a futile defence of her love.

Only to be amazed when the staff snapped out, lengthening in an eye-blink to impact the creature, knocking it off balance. Alicia snatched up a toppled café chair, braining the beast with it, stunning it.

They might have a chance. A forlorn hope. Just hold out until Ladybug reappeared.

Feral swatted the chair out of Alicia's grasp.

Stepping out of the doorway, Chloé swung the staff again, in both hands, smashing it in the muzzle. “Paws off, creep!”

Feral howled, clutching it's face, long beaded forelock ponytails flying as it recoiled.

Chloé realized who Feral was. She had to end this quickly. Spinning to build momentum, Chloé smashed Chat’s staff into Feral's kneecap, wincing as the sickening crunch of shattered bone reverberated up the shaft of the staff.

Feral screamed like a broken calliope, toppling, clutching her ruined knee. 

A second staff blow broke Feral's ankle of her uninjured leg. She was crippled now.

But for how long? How quickly could an akuma heal it’s victim?

“Stay down, please! Don’t make me do this! Not again!”, Chloé sobbed. 

Snarling, enraged, Feral crawled toward Chloé, dragging herself along the pavement. “Kill you…”, she panted. “Gonna…kill you! Messed it…messed it all up!”

Chloé crushed Feral’s left elbow. “Please stop! Please!”

Alicia, pulling Chloé back. “C'mon, prime. She’s beaten.”

Feral moaned, trying to flex her broken knee as it knit itself back together.

“Girls! Move!”, Chat Noir yelled, cried “Cataclysm!”, touching the base of a decorative cast aluminum lamp post, toppling it, the pole collapsing with an unpleasant wet, snapping thud of meaty impact from Feral's right hip to left shoulder.

Chat's face was getting pale. Dangerously pale. Where the hell was Ladybug?!

“Where’s your partner, pussycat?”

Chat grinned, giddy from shock. “Foxy over there dropped a building on her…oh, damn…I’m gonna look like crap in my next publicity photo…”, he giggled.

“Focus, Chat!”, Chloé sobbed. “Where is she?!”

Chat waved, vague. “Bloc—block away…big pile o' rubble. Damn dog squashed mi-Ladybug…” A gasp. “Going down fighting…revenge…” Chat’s voice was fading.

“’Lishe!”, Chloé screamed. “Smashed building, block away! Find Bugaboo! Hurry!”

Alicia darted over. “What about you?”

Chloé hiccupped, choking on a sob. “I—I'll do wuh-wuh-what I huh-have t-to. Go!”

A fierce, possessive kiss. “Don’t you dare fucking die on me!” Then Alicia was gone, running through the destruction.

“Puh-please stuh-stuh-stay d-down, Lila…p-please”, Chloé begged. 

Helicopters, news and police, whirred overhead. Chloé clutched Chat's battle-staff in a two-handed grip, ready to swat the akumatised girl again if she so much as twitched.

Something on Chat beeped insistently.

Chloé remembered. The miraculous five-minute warning. Oh, this was just getting better and better.

“P-please, baby, huh-huh-hurry!”, Chloé implored. “We’re ruh-running out of t-time!”

Decision time. Chloé dropped the staff, shucking out of her black leather jacket, tossing it over Chat's deathly pale face and upper body, then caught up the staff again, eyeing Feral cautiously. Her heart pounding in her chest. Alicia have been gone forever.

Feral groaned.

“Ohhh…p-please stay d-down, Lila! D-don’t muh-muh-make me hit you again!”

Feral’s hand twitched. She was regenerating, healing. This was incredibly bad. Chloé stood on shaky legs. If Chloé hit her in the head, would she recover from that? Could Ladybug’s Lucky Charm even heal brain damage?

One last feeble beep, and a flash of pale green light. Chat Noir was officially out of the fight. And whoever he was still had a badly broken leg.   
But Chloé still held his staff. Chat's battle-staff hadn’t disappeared! She just wished it was a more manageable length, because she was about to do something incredibly stupid. 

The staff became a long baton.

“Oh. That’s convenient”, Chloé muttered, cautiously approaching the fallen akuma-enhanced villain. She had to find the contaminated object. If Alicia found Ladybug, there wasn’t going to be a lot of time.

Rags were all that remained of Lila’s clothes, shredded in her transformation. Chloé found what she was looking for in the remnants of a pocket. A once plain white business card, now a shimmering deep violet. “You little idiot! I wuh-wuh-warned you!!”, Chloé hissed, backing away.

“Chloé! Chloé, baby! Where are you?!” 

Chloé almost moaned in relief. Alicia.

Ladybug was a mess. Half her mask was…gone. Lustrous blue-black hair disheveled and dust-stained. Costume reduced to one arm, opposite leg, connected by embarrassing scraps. One eye blackened, swollen, lips split and bloodied, a thread of blood leaking from her nose.

“Mon Dieu! Bugaboo, you look like hell!”

Ladybug flipped Chloé a rigid middle finger. 

“I had to dig hero-britches here out of the rubble of a collapsed bookstore", Alicia grinned. “She was pinned by a broken pipe that didn’t quite penetrate some Russian novel or other. At least, I think it was Russian.”

“Nobody gets through ‘War and Peace'!", Chloé quipped. 

Ladybug groaned at the pun. 

Chloé held out the akumatised object. “Do your thing, girl.”

“Where’s Chat?”, Ladybug winced. “I see his delicate touch has been put to good use.”

“Getting a civvie to safety before he times out", Chloé lied. “Now hurry up before Dread Riding Hood over there gets frisky again!”

The violated business card was torn in half, the vile akuma fluttering free as the amok drifted toward the ground, Chloé flinching to avoid the miniature magical menace. A practiced flick of Ladybug’s yo-yo caught both butterfly and contaminated feather in one smooth motion. De-evilized, the white insect flying away as the feather fluttered in the breeze.

“Buh-bye, li'l butterfly”, Ladybug mumbled, then called “Lucky Charm!“

The swirling, flooding rush of vermilion energy. Repairing, restoring, healing. Purifying. All the damage and destruction undone.

Lila Rossi left standing in the street, shamefaced, almost morose, before fleeing, mortified.

A restored Ladybug stood before them, exhausted. Her earrings beeped, insistent. “Gotta go!”

Chloé and Alicia watched as Ladybug threw her yo-yo, then swung away.

Alicia glanced at Chloé. “Lose your jacket?”

Chloé shook her head. “Donated to the cause.” She glanced at the alcove where she’d left Chat Noir. And saw a pair of legs sticking out from under her jacket. 

Chat’s baton was still in her hand. “Oh shit…”

Chloé walked over, toed one of the legs with her boot. “You alive in there, chew-toy?”

“Can I have my baton back?”

Chloé squatted, Alicia crouching beside her, blocking casual view. “Yeah. Thanks for the loan”, tucking the object under the edge of the jacket. “Need anything else?”

“Privacy?”

Chloé grinned. That voice sounded…almost familiar.

“Me and ‘Lishe will turn around. We promise not to peek, right, ‘Lishe?”

Alicia nodded, standing. “Promise.”

Chloé stood, turning her back, taking Alicia by the hand. 

Shuffling as the person behind them stood, whispered three words. A flash of green light. Why did Chloé smell over-ripe Camembert?

A right hand and arm clad in shimmering black leather reached over Chloé's right shoulder, holding her jacket by the collar. “Thanks. For everything.”

Chloé reclaimed her jacket, folding it over her free arm before taking Alicia by the hand again. “Anything for an old friend. See you ‘round, pussycat.”

Hand in hand, Chloé and Alicia walked away, not looking back.

*-*-*

Sabrina glowered at her two girlfriends, arms crossed. A delivery pizza box and sushi tray occupied the semi-triangular space between the three girls perched on the wide empress bed in the penthouse bedroom. Paris glittered like diamonds scattered on black velvet in the window.

“You two idiots could have gotten seriously hurt!”, Sabrina accused. “You’re not heroes like Chat and Ladybug!”

“Somebody had to do something", Chloé reasoned, taking a bite of ham and pineapple pizza. Alicia was right. It actually was pretty good.

“You could have wound up in hospital! I hate hospitals!”, Sabrina pouted.

Alicia lifted a copy of the evening newspaper. An aerial photograph on the front page displayed Chloé wielding Chat Noir's battle-staff. ‘Even hero’s need heroes!’, the headline declared. “We made the news”, she pointed out.

“How can you two be so calm?!”, Sabrina fumed.

Chloé sighed. “We weren’t calm. I was scared out of my wits. I don’t know about ‘Lishe.”

“Terrified!”, Alicia nodded, blonde ponytail bobbing.

“We…I got involved because I didn’t know if Feral's rampage would end up in you being hurt”, Chloé explained.

“Ditto.”

Sabrina blinked. “You were worried about me?”, she squeaked.

Chloé scoffed. “Of course we were…”

“We love you", Alicia smiled. Plucked a piece of kappa roll from the tray with her chopsticks, held it up to Sabrina's mouth.

Sabrina accepted the offered morsel. And the openly demonstrated affection of the gesture. Eyes closed, quietly delighted.

Comfortable silence.

“No more hero-ing?”, Sabrina pleaded.

“I’ll try to keep it to a minimum", Chloé offered around a cheesy bite of pizza. “It interferes with my social life.”

“And it upsets our girlfriend”, Alicia nodded.

“Makes shopping difficult", Chloé pointed out.

“But does make for enjoyable make-out snuggles", Alicia argued. “Provided we survive.”

“You two are impossible!”

Chloé and Alicia blinked at Sabrina.

“Of course we are”, Chloé agreed.


	8. Would Ya Look Out for Her Tonight 'Cause She Is Far Across the Sea

Chloé sat at one of the broad red umbrella-shaded tables of the sidewalk café of Le Grand Paris Hotel, sipping occasionally at her citron-infused sparkling water, relaxing, feet up on the lower bar of the decorative wrought iron fencing, an enjoyable if forgettable mass-market paperback novel in her lap, enjoying the blue sky, mild temperatures, dividing her time between reading and people-watching.

Her girlfriends, Alicia and Sabrina, were at their part-time jobs or out shopping, respectively, allowing Chloé some uncommon but not unwelcome time by herself.

Dressed in her now favorite (and ridiculously comfortable) second-hand jeans that had worn through to expose both knees, and a white tee-shirt clumsily screen-printed in red letters with the acronym of the Committee for the Liberation and Integration of Terrifying Organisms and Rehabilitation Into Society (C.L.I.T.O.R.I.S.), Chloé idly reflected on her life since returning to Paris, cheerfully ignoring the disapproving glares of passers-by who recognised the notorious daughter of the Mayor of Paris.

“Hey.”

Chloé glanced up at the person who had so casually addressed her, smiling after a moment when she recognised him. “Adrikins!”, she chirped in honest delight. “I’ve been meaning to catch up with you! Won’t you join me?”

Adrien Agreste, male model, heir to the Agreste family fortune, long-time classmate and her oldest friend, swung his legs over the fence in a neat display of athletic ability that would have set her heart fluttering once upon a time, dropping into the chair opposite Chloé, who dog-eared the page she had been reading, closing the book and leaning on the backs of her interlaced fingers to regard her one-time crush.

“When are you going to move out of that mausoleum?”, the heiress inquired bluntly.

Adrien blinked. He'd heard Chloé had changed after her sudden reappearance after being missing for more than a year and a half. The casual honesty was…jarring.

“Uhhh…”, Adrien glibly replied.

“You do have your own accounts, don’t you?”, the blonde heiress regarded him with concern.

“I—That is, yeah, they’re my accounts but Natalie manages them for me", Adrien admitted. “She makes sure I get a stipend once a month for incidentals…”

“You mean your father’s henchwoman gives you an allowance", Chloé huffed, offended on his behalf. “Utterly ridiculous! It’s your money, you earned it!” She glared at him, ponytail bobbing above her freshly-shaved undercut.

“I’m busy all the time!”, Adrien protested, half-heartedly. “Photo-shoots, school, fencing…other things…” He didn’t like the direction this conversation might be heading.

“Excuses!”, Chloé scoffed, flicking her fingers dismissively.

Adrien was getting annoyed. How dare Chloé talk to him like this? If it wasn’t for her, his life would have been a lot easier, not having to run around on rooftops chasing her down when she’d been akumatized. Repeatedly. And now, here she was, telling him how to live his life.

“What has gotten into you?”, Adrien quietly demanded with a frown, both arms on the table in front of him, circled defensively. 

“I got my ass kicked. Several times. You were there for most of them.”

Adrien’s head snapped up, his emerald green eyes meeting her smug pale blue gaze.

“Chloé…”, Adrien’s tone was mixture of dismay and anger.

“Oh, stuff it, Adrien”, Chloé smiled. “The encounter with Feral the other day only confirmed my suspicions, and I kept quiet, didn’t I?”

Adrien nodded, cautiously. Where was she going with this?

“You’re probably wondering what I’m up to right now, aren’t you?”, Chloé smiled, hand against her cheek, elbow on the table, relaxed. “The answer is: nothing.”

“What’s going on, Chloé? What do you want?”, Adrien demanded quietly.

Chloé didn’t budge a centimeter, she just closed her eyes for a moment. “I have everything I could ever possibly want. Well, except for a larger bed. Three people take up too much room right now in my old one.”

“More than I needed to know…”, Adrien grimaced, reflecting briefly on his last encounter with Kagami.

A pleasant breeze ruffled the leaves of the trees along the boulevard, and Chloé smiled at the small, simple joy it brought her.

“What are we going to do about…us?”, Adrien dangled a finger back and forth between them in inquiry.

Chloé shrugged. “Why do we need to do anything? I’m perfectly content to let sleeping cats lay, as it were”, allowing herself a small grin as Adrien flinched at her perceptive comment. She leaned over the table, cheerfully conspiratorial. “I’m gonna be out of town for a week or so. Why don’t you talk it over with our mutual friend, and we deal with it then if they think there's a problem, alright?”

“Where are you going?” Adrien was simultaneously seriously confused and highly concerned.

“North Branch, Minnesota.”

“What’s in North Branch, Minnesota?” Adrien added curiosity to the list of conflicting emotions he was dealing with.

Chloé’s smile was enigmatically sphinx-like. “Someone I need to say hello to.” 

*-*-*

Alicia bounced between giddy excitement and hyperventilating anxiety while they cleared the international customs checkpoint in Orly, settling down into nervous anticipation that faded into endearingly cute, slightly drooling exhaustion somewhere over the mid-Atlantic. Nervous about her first major trip away from home, Sabrina had been ill in the airport departure lounge bathroom, but settled down quickly, distracting herself from her newly discovered fear of flying by reading or watching movies on the display in the seatback in front of her, until she too fell asleep.

Being the only seasoned traveller out of the three of them, Chloé had cat-napped in the lounge and while awaiting takeoff, eventually tipping her own seat back in the first class accommodations after her girlfriends had nodded off, falling asleep herself holding Sabrina's hand, with Alicia’s head pillowed on her shoulder.

The trio of young women changed planes at JFK in New York, then again in Atlanta, managing to get some pleasantly palatable food at each stop, before finally arriving at the Minneapolis-St. Paul International Airport in Minnesota. The airport hotel was sufficient to their needs for a place to catch-up on badly needed proper sleep and a decent meal or two, before bundling into a hired chauffeured luxury SUV for what should have been a forty-five minute drive, which instead became almost two hours due to unexpected traffic and delays.

*-*-*

Megan Olson glanced up, arms full of this week's previously worn clothes as she passed from the master bedroom through the kitchen on her way to the laundry room, wondering why she heard the crunch of tires on their gravel driveway. This wasn’t Andy's weekend…

Andy didn’t drive a gleaming black luxury SUV either, not on what he made these days. 

She dropped the load of laundry on the couch in the living room, cell-phone in hand as she opened the front door.

Doors on the SUV opened, and three young women exited the vehicle stopped in driveway, two slender blondes, strikingly similar in appearance, differing only in styles of dress and hair, the other a pale bookish ginger who peered nervously at her from behind owlish glasses, hands clasped in front of her hips.

“Can I help you? Are you lost?”, Megan called to the unexpected arrivals.

“Bonjour!”, one of the blondes, the punkish one, waved. “Je m'appelle Chloé Bourgeois. This is Alicia…”, the second blonde waved, smiling brightly 

“And Sabrina…”, Chloé finished the introductions in her Parisian accent.

The ginger girl waved shyly. 

“Okaaaaay…", Megan hesitated. “And you’re here because…?”

“Would it be possible to speak with your daughter, Tulip?”, Alicia inquired.

Megan frowned. Stalkers. Fantastic. “I think you’d better go”, she called, annoyed and frightened, lifting her cell-phone. “I’ll call the cops if you don’t leave!”

“Mom? What’s going on?”, Tulip asked from the doorway, behind Megan. 

“Go inside, Tulip. Now.”

Chloé glanced around, getting frantic. It was going wrong. All wrong. 

“Atticus…”, the blonde heiress muttered, then louder, calling to Tulip as the younger girl stepped back into the house. “Atticus said you were the bravest person he ever knew!”

Tulip paused, door half closed. “What did you just say?”

“Tulip, do as I said”, her mother ordered.

“No, mom”, Tulip shook her head, long red ponytail swaying. “Not yet.” Adjusting her glasses, the teen stepped around her mother, ready to bolt back into the house. “How do you know that name?”, she called to the young women in the driveway.

“The same way you know it", Chloé called, grinning. “He sends greeting from Corginia.”

Tulip put a reassuring hand on her mother’s shoulder.

“It’s cool, mom. Let them in.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, here we are, at the end once again.
> 
> As always, thanks to everyone who came along for the ride.
> 
> See you in the next adventure.

**Author's Note:**

> Wanna play fun game?
> 
> Identify the 80s song that inspires the title of each chapter.


End file.
